


Welcoming

by pennydrdful



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, Episode: s07e18 Dirty Girls, Gen, POV Female Character, POV: Faith Lehane, Season/Series 07, Winter of Faith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennydrdful/pseuds/pennydrdful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Dirty Girls; Faith compares life in prison to life in Sunnydale when Dawn decides to lay down the law.  Originally written for Winter of Faith 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcoming

Letting the guards take her to prison was the hardest thing Faith ever had to do.  To force herself to stand there, as the judge passed down her sentence, and not fight back.  Not drive her elbow back into the first guard's face, following it with a kick to the gut for his partner.  To force herself to let them put their hands on her arms and take her away to some cement box of a place.  To follow their rules like they had power over someone like her.

Staying in prison... serving her time - that was the easiest thing she ever had to do.  There were no decisions, no responsibilities, no one to let down and look at her with kicked-puppy eyes when she fucked up.  Instead, no one gave a shit and besides what could she possible screw up in prison?  You were expected to brawl and cuss and generally not give a shit. 

Of course, the downside was that she had all the time in the world to do nothing but think.  Think about... think about heavy shit, that she'd just as soon not think about.  But she had to think about it all, anyway.  Because something had been breaking on the inside.  The way she was going just wasn't working.  It was like that word those people on the news had said: non-sustainable.  Running hadn't fixed anything except got her away from her mama. 

So, yeah.  Jail was easy.  A fuck load easier than this. 

Faith pressed her fist into the palm of her hand.  She took in the boisterous, glowing living room jam-packed with girls.  Spinning on her boot heel, she grabbed her jacket and ducked out through the Summers' front door.  She shrugged the jacket on and immediately went for her cigarettes.

Shit, but those girls made her skin itch sometimes.  She sat on the steps with a thunk and lit her cigarette.  Taking her first drag and then slowly releasing the smoke, she closed her eyes.  This was hard.  Being here, doing this, was hard as hell. 

The girls looking at her like she was a panther in the zoo.  Like she was exotic, and strong, and just as good as Buffy.

And she could remember when Buffy's pals had looked at her that way.  Better yet, she remembered how Buffy had looked at her.  All open and curious and tempted.  Well she'd killed that off soon enough, hadn't she?

Behind her, the door clicked open and Faith's shoulders went tight.  Whoever it was, she was not in the mood for a fucking conversation.  Light footsteps creaked across the wooden boards until a pair of white sneakers with baby blue laces came into her view. 

"You better not be here to cause trouble."  So it was kid sis, then.

Faith blew out another plume of smoke and slowly shifted her attention upward, cigarette dangling between her fingertips.  Dawn stood there looking like she always had.  Arms crossed and body coiled up, like a pissed off kitten.  All brass and vinegar on the surface, with little girl fear on the inside.

A part of Faith itched to smile and cry, 'Dawnie!  So I heard you're not actually a real girl!'  But that was old Faith.  The new, much less fun Faith just looked up at her, face like a wall.  "Like I told Buffy," she said, holding Dawn's eyes, "I'm just here to help."  Then she looked down and away, back out into the street.

Dawn snorted.  "Right, cause you've been such a big help in the past." 

Faith said nothing and instead remembered when Dawn had kind of liked her once.  When she was a much tinier girl.  But then Faith had knocked her unconscious to shut up her goddamn shrieking and held her Mom hostage and lied to her through her own sister's body.  After that, Dawn hadn't liked her so much. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Faith could see the teenager's weight shift in those white sneakers, and she sighed inwardly in relief that the girl was about to leave.  But then, Dawn sat down. 

Faith cut a look sideways at her, resisting the sudden urge to wipe her palms against her jeans.  Dawn was looking at her, bitch face firmly in place.  It was a look she'd seen a hundred times in prison.  Women with an attitude, trying to prove they weren't afraid of her.  Difference was, they mostly just made it out of ignorance.  But Dawn knew.  Dawn had experienced firsthand how much Faith could fuck up someone's business. 

A part of her wanted to wipe that look off her face.  Ask her exactly how much more talking she was gonna do.  But she didn't.  She just looked at Dawn and waited. 

Dawn glared at her for another long second, just in case Faith hadn't got it the first time.  And then she made a show of snuggling into her jacket, and turned those big, big eyes out to the road.  "But if you _are_ here to help," she said, still looking at the street, "then that'd be cool.  Cause we need it."

Faith leaned back against the steps, propping her elbows up behind her.  She took another hit and then blew the smoke out to the side, away from Dawn's precious pink lungs.  "Believe me, little sis.  I was picking up on that vibe." 


End file.
